"What you reckon I've been keepin' them loaded revolvers out in the barn all these years fer?
Jest fer ornaments?
Not much! They're to shoot with, ef anybody asks you.

Thunderation, Mr.Gregory, you ain't no idee how a feller can be handicapped by a timid wife an' a lot o' fool childern.

I'm almost afeard to turn 'round fer fear they'll be skeered to death fer my safety." "You cut yourself with a razor once when ma told you not to try to shave the back of your neck by yourself," said one of the girls.

"She wanted you to let Mr.Beck shave it for you, but you wouldn't have it that way." "Do you suppose I want an undertaker shavin' my neck?
I'm not that anxious to be shaved.

Beck's the undertaker, Mr.Gregory." "Well, he runs the barber shop, too," insisted the girl.
During the next three days Tinkletown saw but little of its marshal, fire chief and street commissioner.